


I don't know if I can trust you anymore

by BlueFairy4Ever



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Implied Cheating, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFairy4Ever/pseuds/BlueFairy4Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This whole situation is just not sitting right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't know if I can trust you anymore

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! i'm sorry to let you know that i will not be continuing this, as i'm pretty sure that it's been more than a year since i last looked at this. i'm so sorry!!!
> 
> i would lile to say though, that if you want feel free to write more on this if you want! i'd love to see that. just make sure to let me know so i can check it out! :D
> 
> again, i'm really sorry.

The clock on the entertainment center flashes red in your dark living room, with the only other light being the light of your T.V., showcasing some new product that’s guaranteed to make your daily life better! Buy it now! The little red numbers are inching their way to the 4:30 a.m. mark, and all you can think of is, _where the hell is Dave?_ He was supposed to be home hours ago… he hadn’t even told you he was going out until he’d gotten dressed and had one foot out the door, either.  
This whole situation is just not sitting right.

With a sigh, you move to get up and go to bed. You figure he’s just staying over at one of his other buddies’ houses or something, being too drunk to come home. Which is silly; you wouldn’t have minded going to pick him up from the bar at all. At least he’d be here at home with you, instead of out. Like usual, lately.

Just as you make it to the hallway of your shared little apartment, you hear the front door click. Oh. Well speak of the devil. You turn and watch as Dave makes his way into the room, closing the door and taking off his shoes and coat. Doesn’t look like he sees you there in the hall, even if the room is a little dark. You cross your arms and clear your throat, and he freezes.

"Well, look who finally came home tonight." you say, letting a slight edge creep into your voice. You aren’t that mad, but you are annoyed at how late it actually is. Dave finishes getting his coat and things put away more slowly, answering you with a curt “John,".

"What took you so long to get home?" you ask, walking over to stand in front of him. His normal, rich, something-that-is-only-Dave scent is covered liberally in a layer of vodka and gin. Yeah, he went out drinking, alright. 

"Oh, uh, some of my work buddies stopped by the bar and wanted to show me this new place they found downtown.. yeah." Dave’s got one of his hands stuffed into his jean pockets, while the other rubs at the back of his neck, and you just stare at him for a moment. That couldn’t have been what happened, because if it was, he wouldn’t be so nervous in front of you right now. No one else might have noticed, but you know him well enough to know that he is lying through his teeth.

You sigh. It’s too late at night to be questioning these things, and maybe he did go out with co- workers tonight. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s been out late without you, even if it is the latest time he’s ever come home at. Stepping closer, you bring your arms around him and pull him into a hug. 

"…Even if it is super late, I’m glad you came home…" you murmur into his neck. He goes rigid for a minute, but then his arms come up to hug you, if not more hesitantly than usual. You place a small kiss on his neck, one of your favorite spots to kiss him, but stop for a minute. The skin here feels... weird.

You pull your head away from his neck and bring up a hand to rub at your lips with a grimace. It feels like something slimy just got all over your mouth. Tentatively, you try and lick it off, and... It tastes like strawberries. 

_What_..?

Your hand reaches for Dave’s neck, and you pull the fabric of his shirt down, exposing at least two or three little bruises slathered in more of the strawberry lip gloss. You can feel the shock on your face, and Dave seems to have frozen completely.

"Joh-" you cut him off.

"What the hell is this?" The words come out quietly at first, but after the information sinks in just a little bit more, you forcefully push him away from you, disgust written all over your face. It can’t be. He couldn't have.

"What the HELL IS THIS!?" you yell at him, watching him flinch. Dave’s mouth opens, then closes, over and over like a guppy, and you pause.

"You didn’t go out with your co- workers, did you?" You accuse him with the most angry and hurt voice you can muster.

"John, please listen-"

"…You lied to me. You lied to me! I’ve sitting here waiting for you to come home all night!" You gesture to the little glowing red clock, whose time shows an hour that no one should be awake at, “It’s almost 5 o’ clock in the damn morning Dave. What the fucking hell is wrong with you."

It takes Dave a minute, but eventually he stutters it out. “I-I didn’t think… John I really didn’t-didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear! It-it just—"

"You just happened to let some slutty skank fall into your lap the first chance she got?" You spit at him, practically yelling by now.

"No! That’s not what fucking happened!" his voice is starting to get pretty loud by now too.

"Then enlighten me, Dave! Why would you go off and fuck some girl and try to hide it from me? Hated having to fuck a guy all the time or something? I didn’t realize that it was such a chore being with me, that you felt the need to let some other person put their hands all over you behind my back—" You stop when Dave practically yells in your face, even from how far away he is.

"Stop talking about things you don’t _fucking_ know anything about!"

You pause, staring at him incredulously for a minute. It takes a minute, but soon Dave realizes how loud he just screamed. This whole situation wasn’t even your fault. He goes and scrambles to try and fix it, but you don’t really want to hear it anymore. A breathy, anguished chuckle escapes you, but there is no humor in it. It’s empty and hollow in the room, and you grind your teeth together angrily. So that's how he's going to be. _Fine_.

"John wait—"

"No, Dave. I’m going to bed." You turn to leave, hands clenched in fists at your sides. Your eyes are burning, but you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break down into a vulnerable state. Your pissed at him, damn it, and he is not going to be the one the comfort you right now.

"John, please!" 

" _I said I’m going to fucking bed, Dave!_ " You yell, tired of hearing his voice. “We’ll talk tomorrow." you mutter with finality, which Dave doesn’t really listen to, as he keeps trying to get your attention back.

At that you storm down the hallway to your bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind you and ignoring all his protests. 

As soon as the door closes, you lean your back against it, letting the hot tears in your eyes just overflow. How _dare_ he? You anxiously waited all night for him; you could’ve been _sleeping_.You even had a surprise for him tonight.

Well, it would’ve been a surprise, if he’d actually stayed home tonight to get it. 

Sobbing angrily, you stomp over to your night stand, opening the top drawer. Inside is a little, cube-shaped box you had gotten specifically for today. Carefully, you lift it up and open it. A little silver ring embedded with bright red rubies sits directly in the center, and you let out a choked sob at the sight of it. You were going to give this to him today.  
Since, today is, well, the day you two first met. In person, anyways.

You glare at the ring scornfully, as if it was the one who had cheated, then slam the little box shut and all but chuck it into the drawer from whence it came. You don’t want to think about him right now. You don’t want to think about his tall frame, or his soft hair, or his stupid jokes. You don’t want to think about how he only grins in front of you, or how he somehow always manages to wake up before you do and kiss your face until you wake up with him, and you don’t want to think about the sheer amount of time you’ve spent together over the years, just goofing off like the dorks you are and used to be.

You don’t want any trace of him in your mind right now as you crawl into your bed, trying to sleep away some of this pain and ignore how empty the other side of the bed is.

You’ll think about everything tomorrow.


End file.
